


Journalism

by lelliiethesnake



Series: Fake AH Crew shorts [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M, The Beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lelliiethesnake/pseuds/lelliiethesnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was precisely 23.14 when the black car rolled up outside of Jon’s quaint suburban house.<br/>“Apologies for the late hour. But I think it’s time you and I had a little conversation.”<br/>“Does this conversation end in my beheading?” Jon asked bluntly.<br/>“Not if you cooperate.” The towering dark figure replied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was precisely 23.14 when the black car rolled up outside of Jon’s quaint suburban house. He was still up, sat in the living room with notes sprawled around him as he re-typed a story for the paper. His boss had slated him for “glorifying” the Fake AH Crew murdering 14 rival crew members at a warehouse. He grumbled and swore his way through retyping the article, upset he wasn’t allowed to openly appreciate the gang’s style. He had considered publishing it online anyway, but didn’t want to lose his pay-check.

Truthfully Jon’s boss wanted to fire him and he knew it. The old, rotund bastard hated Jon’s appreciation for crime done well but hated him more for being seemingly the only person capable of getting information on the Fake AH Crew. They were shady and elusive and yet somehow Jon always got the scoop on their jobs, with information no other paper could replicate. His boss had called Jon a liar to begin with, but when his claim that the knife left behind at a crime scene belonged to Gavin Free was proven right a week later through DNA evidence he gave in. After all, Jon’s captivating journalism was all but keeping the paper afloat these days.

Jon noticed the car pull up immediately. Not many cars drove about late in the suburban neighbourhood and his blinds were still pulled open. Jon wasn’t a stranger to shady dealings; back in Liberty City he’d had a great number of run-ins with the dodgier side of town. He sat still, looking down at his computer and pretending not to have noticed as a dark figure moved up his path to his front door. He couldn’t see the figure clearly out of his periphery but heard heavy feet crunching on the gravel. He knew if he bolted he’d be caught, after all if he could see out the guy could probably see him. This would have to be played another way.

The doorbell rang, high and crisp. A cheery “ding-dong!” to cut through the tension. Jon stood, finally taking a good look at the car outside. It was all black and armoured. Shit. He slid one of the front room cabinets open on his way to the front door, hesitating before leaving the gun within arm’s reach if he needed it. Walking through to the hallway he took a deep breath and pulled the heavy oak front-door open.

The Vagabond. Stood there in his signature jacket with the black mask gripped between his hands and held to his front, the way gentlemen take their hats off at a door. His dark eyes shone out of a face smudged with terrifying face-paint, under long, dishevelled hair tied loosely back. He was grinning manically. Oh fuck.

Jon knew it was a distinct possibility that the Fake AH Crew would find him. He hadn’t quite been expecting this though. He frowned at the criminal a little, before deciding to play this with a polite smile.

“You’re lucky you’re here early. I was just about to go to bed.” He said, using every damn acting skill he had to keep the smile on his face and the shake out of his voice to hide the fact he was almost shitting himself with fear.

“Apologies for the late hour.” The Vagabond replied politely, but Jon was jarred by an ominous undertone. “But I think it’s time you and I had a little conversation.”

“Does this conversation end in my beheading?” Jon asked bluntly.

“Not if you cooperate.” The towering dark figure replied, and for a moment Jon thought he would actually shit himself with fear.

“Well you better come in I suppose. It wouldn’t do to leave a man on the doorstep.” Jon opened his door and led the Vagabond into his living room, shutting the blinds on the way past. 

“Well Mr Risinger it has come to my attention that you have been writing some very fantastical stories about our misadventures.” The Vagabond replied as he sat on the soft couch, one leg up over his knee, an arm slung casually over the back. “What do you say to that?”

“Whatever doesn’t get me murdered.” Jon replied as he sat on the chair opposite, and the Vagabond chuckled darkly. 

“I like you.” He replied slowly, sitting forwards and tilting his head as he stared Jon down, fingertips coming together like every nightmare ever had. “I like your stories. We all enjoy your stories, truthfully. Gavin sent everyone the link the last time you published about us captioned “Guys this one is great!””. Jon tried not to jump a little at the high mimicking British accent. “I feel however that we need to set some ground rules for this working relationship to succeed indefinitely.”

“Succeed indefinitely?”

“Well yes, this has been mutually beneficial to all of us. You bring attention to us and glorify our exploits just enough that half the city secretly doesn’t want us caught, hooked and waiting for the next adventure. You have a successful career in journalism with half the city feeding off your every word. We can continue this.

“Firstly, we demand that you do not glorify or draw attention to the exploits of any other criminals in this city. We rule here, and I don’t want any cocksucker reading your articles and thinking anyone has a chance against us.” Jon nodded, not seeing an issue. “Secondly, we require that your publishing schedule remain only semi-regular. You’ve been in this game a while now Jon, but I need to trust that your link to us won’t be exposed.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” Jon replied lightly, and The Vagabond smiled again.

“Good. Good. And lastly, we would like previews of what you’re going to publish. I have several email addresses we can use. I’ll contact you first.”

At this Jon frowned. “I don’t like to be censored.” He replied.

“I don’t think much editing will occur.” The Vagabond replied lightly. “We like your writing style. Besides, what gave you the impression you had a choice?”

Jon stared the other man down, desperately trying to come up with a reply before throwing caution to the wind. “Well I was thinking, if this working relationship were to continue successfully I would like to make some requests.”

The criminal looked amused. “Go on.”

“I’d like some sort of information feed. After all, I need to keep my stories juicy.”

“Juicy.” The word sounded odd rolled round on the tongue of a terrifying internationally infamous mass murderer. “You seem very adept at finding out information on us yourself, I’m not sure you need it.”

“I try.” Jon replied shortly. “But I would like some guarantee that your trail won’t suddenly go cold without any prior warning.”

The Vagabond looked thoughtful before nodding. “A small price to pay. Is that all?”

“I think so.” Jon wondered whether this was it, whether he would be left alone now.

“There is one thing I was willing to offer you that you haven’t requested.” The Criminal said lightly, his voice inviting question.

Jon frowned. “What?”

“Our protection.” 

“You’ll protect me?” Jon let his genuine surprise show.

“From the police or anyone else.” The Vagabond replied, sounding sincere. Jon knew he shouldn’t trust him, but with the sincerity in the criminal’s voice he really, really wanted to.

“Okay.” He replied.

The Vagabond stood and moved leisurely towards the door. “I trust you will be discreet about this. Write some other stories about other things.” He motioned dismissively with his hands. They were smudged with black, presumably from touching his face.

“There are few other things interesting in this town.” Jon replied.

“I can tell you that the blonde on the arm of the governor at the fundraiser Friday night will be a whore. Write about that.” The Vagabond replied distastefully. “Write about systematic inequality or lack of school funding. Hell, there’s always the cliché article about attending a pride event to prove yourself a strong ally to all the underdogs.”

“I wouldn’t be going to pride as an ally.” Jon said shortly, letting his venom for such articles shine through.

The Vagabond paused at the door and looked back at him, head cocking to the side again and eyes narrowing a little. “Interesting.” The barest hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips and for once Jon wasn’t sure whether it was put on.

As he opened the door for his guest the Vagabond looked down at Jon and motioned to shake his hand. “I hope that this can business venture can proceed successfully.” He said as he brought his hands to clasp over Jon’s. He had a firm handshake.

He suddenly grabbed Jon’s hand tighter and pulled him in close. Jon was pulled forward as the criminal leaned down and whispered in his ear. “And if you want to get a good scoop, be at the docks tomorrow at 5pm.”

As he pulled away, his jaw lightly bumped against Jon’s. Jon was sure he’d been imagining things, but that almost seemed like a kiss on the cheek.

The Vagabond gave him one last creepy smile and walked out of the door, pulling his mask on as he crunched down the gravel drive. Jon closed the door and stared at the wall in his hallway, trying to decide if that had just happened. He had just about accepted that he wasn’t in some sort of dream when he looked up and caught himself in the mirror in his hallway, frightened blue eyes framed by a crimson smudge of face paint left along his left cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

 

5pm, the docks. The Vagabond had said to be there and there Jon was.

It was a bit vague, “the docks”. As he stood leant up against the edge of a shipping container Jon wondered how he should know what to look for in this vast jungle of multi coloured containers, stretching from rusting stacks back by the hangar to more colourful new ones haphazardly arranged under the giant crane. He was level with the middle of the long stretch; a couple of containers in so security wouldn’t see him and kick him out. He knew he was probably a fool for following the Vagabond’s suggestion but if he was going to enter into this working relationship it wouldn’t do to ignore the man’s advice. That would just be a rude way to start things off.

His doubts were curbed when a boom rippled through the air and the ground shook. Stumbling away from the container Jon looked back to see the flaming remains of a helicopter explode into the older end of the shipping container graveyard and three figures swooping to the ground on parachutes, Fake AH Crew symbols on each of them. They were so recognisable.  Michael Jones was laughing manically, shooting warning shots to security guards over by the gate with a large shotgun that was jolting his whole figure as he swooped down. The other appeared to be Gavin Free; the glint of his sunglasses reaching Jon from a distance as he efficiently dismounted and disappeared down into the maze. Lastly was the Vagabond. His face paint was vibrant and hair was tied up and swooped out behind him as he came to land on top of a container. Before Jon could blink he’d detached himself and grabbed two objects from his belt. It was after he’d launched them, whole body stretching to throw an impressive distance, and ducked and rolled into a safe space between containers that Jon realised they were grenades. He hid himself, throwing himself behind a container and considering his options for leaving as he heard them explode and someone scream.

The Crew seemed to be working towards something. He could see two possible exits, but with the level of destruction and chaos he didn’t know if either of them were too close to what AH were looking for to be safe. He also really didn’t want to be seen, mistaken for an enemy and shot. But they seemed to be working their way through the containers towards him and he was running out of options.

Jon ran across the concrete to the security hut that controlled the road entrance. As he ran, not looking back, he looked up and his stomach dropped through the floor. A fucking tank was rolling up towards the entrance.

Jon reached the hut and crouched in front of it, praying that no one would see him. He moved round the side of the wobbly wooden frame, with the exploding docks on one side and the tank rolling up on the other. It was ridiculous and he was terrified. No one was as unpredictable and chaotic as the Fake AH Crew and he had ended up right in the middle of the destruction.

He crouched frozen as the tank rolled behind him, crossing into the docks by crushing through the thin barrier then other side of the little hut from Jon. He heard the crunch behind him, feeling the hut he was leant against shake with the thunderous rolling. There were still explosions and gunfire coming from within the containers, slowly moving up towards the newer end. They were almost level with him now.

Jon moved round to the other side of the security booth and watched carefully through the glass as the Crew came to a stop. The tank stopped too and opened up top before Jack and Ray climbed out. Ray had his characteristic pink shotgun and Jack’s long red hair glinted in the sunlight as she slid out of the tank and took off running towards where the guys on the containers had stopped, stood atop them looking down at something. As they disappeared into the maze of containers Jon heard sirens behind him and froze. It could be very bad for him to be caught watching the Fake AH Crew. He pulled out his phone and began to ring 911, hoping that he could pretend he was just after the police.

He was just reaching a point of “Could you send officers- oh good they’re already here” when the police men came stumbled out of the car, angry and swearing, and pointed a multitude of guns at him.

“Freeze! On the ground!” They shout hoarsely at him.

“Thank god you’re here!” Jon replied, noticing as he kneeled the Fake AH Crew running out of the container maze with armfuls of something and guns shooting, trying to take people down before they climbed into the tank. Jon made sure to get to the ground hidden behind the booth which should hopefully protect him from gunfire. Right?

He closed his eyes as the glass of the booth shattered and fell to the ground around him. The police were shouting and started shooting above him and Jon froze, aware that one wrong move and a bullet could fly right through him. _Shit shit shit shit_ he thought as he heard gunshots increase. Then a police officer shouted with panic and the Vagabond appeared just around the corner of the security booth, black boots three feet from Jon’s face and carrying a fucking rocket launcher.

He took one quick glance down at Jon before launching it at a police car. It flew back and exploded pretty spectacularly as the four officers crouched behind it screamed. Two had managed to duck out and roll away in time and came charging towards the Vagabond with knives. Jon looked up to see the terrifying facepaint break into a grin, and it gave him chills. The Vagabond casually strolled forwards, taking a knife out of his jacket. He balanced it briefly before throwing it up, catching it by the handle and then shooting it spinning out of his hand, arm and body moving fast. Jon saw it bury itself in an officer’s skull, killing him instantly, before the criminal turned to the other officer that had almost reached him.

The officer roared and tried to bring the knife down on him. The Vagabond sidestepped effortlessly and with incredible precision and a fluid, efficient momentum kneed the officer in the stomach, bent his arm painfully behind him and snatched the knife out of his hand, knocking the officer’s feet apart with one of his own so that he struggled to find solid footing. He then dragged the officer back up to standing by his hair, pulling him back against his chest and bringing the knife up to his throat.

“Tell me who’s got dirt on us in the police force.” The Vagabond said, with that sugary voice again that threatened in the undertone.

“Fuck you.” The police officer spit out.

“Fine, or you could die.” The officer started to struggle but before he could get any leverage the Vagabond sliced across his throat, blood spraying out in a shocking radius. It reached where Jon was crouched on the floor, spraying his shoes and jeans.

Jon wasn’t looking at the blood though. He brought his eyes up to see the Vagabond looking at him, continuing to keep eye contact as he dropped the officer’s body and it crumpled to the floor. Jon was amazed. It wasn’t the first man he’d seen die. But that was undoubtedly the best knife-work he’d ever seen. It was fluid and effortless and deadly. He was kind of turned on to be honest.

He stood up as the tank rolled up and stopped beside the two of them, where they stood facing each other. It was waiting for the Vagabond.

“Are you okay?” the criminal asked, with a voice that was far too sweet and caring for the volume of blood down his clothing.

“Uh yeah.” Jon let out a shaky breath. “I think I’m good.”

“Did I scare you?” The Vagabond asked, and it was the softest, most caring voice Jon had heard in a long time. He was baffled by it. Clearly the Vagabond didn’t realise he wasn’t new to violence.

“A little bit,” Jon admitted, “But I’ll be honest, that was kinda hot.”

If Jon could photograph any moment of his life, it would be the bewildered expression on the criminal’s face in that moment. His jaw went a little slack and his head tilted to the side a little, before he opened his mouth to say something, paused and frowned and then closed it again. Just as he looked like he was about to speak again they were interrupted by the tank hatch slamming open and Michael Jones popping out.

“Are you two shitheads gonna get in here or what? The fucking police helicopter is on its way we gotta lose them.”

“I don’t think I should join you.” Jon cut in immediately. “I value not being shot at by helicopters, I’ll get myself home.”

“Are you sure?” The Vagabond turned to him, concern once again lacing his features. Jon was so confused by the mood changes.

“Yes, now go!” he insisted. Michael disappeared inside the tank again, satisfied that the discussion was over and that the Vagabond was coming with them. The Vagabond paused, before turning and moving towards the tank.

He stopped awkwardly on the tank ladder and looked back. “I promised to keep you safe.” He said back to Jon, “And I intend to.”

With that the tank started to roll away, and Jon darted back towards the alleyway. _Time to get away from here before trying to work out what that was._

* * *

 

Jon was at home the next evening when there was a ring of his doorbell. He cautiously wandered up and opened it to see a box on his doorstep. Jon pulled it inside and saw a little note on the top.

_I’m sorry about your clothing getting bloodstained. Let me make it up to you._

Jon opened the box to see a brand new pair of the jeans he had worn yesterday and a brand new pair of his shoes. Huh. As he lifted them out he saw another note on the bottom, a small scribble underneath a phone number.

_P.S. I’d like to take you out to dinner. This isn’t a threat, let me know if you want to x_

And with that, Jon made the most impulsive decision of his life. He pulled out his phone, typed in the number and brought it to his ear. His heart sat briefly in his throat as the dial tone rang, before he heard the click of an answer.

“Hi.”


	3. Chapter 3

They say the second date is the deal-breaker, right?

Jon sat and looked out at the city from the bar of the top floor restaurant. It was without a doubt the fanciest place Jon had ever been to dinner, with its opalescent black tiles and sleek neon bar. He didn’t think he’d be able to afford any of the food on the menu but if the last date had given any indication he didn’t think he’d have to pay anything.

Exactly a week ago he and the Vagabond had gone on an interesting first date. After a leisurely power-boat ride up the river they’d ended up pulling into a stream and walking up to a picnic bench, where the Vagabond had set up a barbeque and then proceeded to cook him a rather delicious steak. It was interesting, to say the least. An evening of very carefully considered conversations that ended with Jon being driven home and given a rather cliché kiss goodnight before he got out of the car. It did then mean he had to go and wash his face immediately, but it was a good enough kiss not to be annoyed at the streaks of transferred face paint. 

Jon was torn about the Vagabond. The criminal was attractive, charming and really interesting but he was still a deadly killer. The Vagabond still hadn’t told Jon his real name, and Jon hoped he’d be able to get it tonight. The rest of the crew were public knowledge, but the Vagabond’s name had never been revealed. Between the last date and this one he’d been caught on camera killing three guards with a pencil. A pencil. Jon knew he was in extremely dangerous territory and this was probably a bad call. But then again, he mused, the man was hot and held up extremely intelligent and engaging conversation. He was interesting and interested in Jon, and if he was honest with himself Jon was kinda turned on by the danger of the whole affair.

“I seem to have missed the chance to buy your first drink.”

Jon turned at the sound of the criminal’s voice to see a tall, good looking blonde man in a suit. It took a second to register. 

“No war-paint this evening?” Jon asked as he started shamelessly at the criminal’s clean features, drinking in his fair face and piercing blue eyes. He looked normal. He actually looked quite dorkish and cute and it was unsettling.

A smile passed across said face. “Well, I haven’t been to a dinner that’s required war paint since college.” He laughed. “You look good tonight.”

“You don’t scrub up too bad yourself.” Jon said as he allowed himself to run his eyes down the sleek tailored suit, drinking in a well-tailored body free of heavy leather jacket and awful dad-jeans.

The Vagabond simply smiled, changing the subject to avoid showing the blush visible now the paint had gone. “Our table is ready, shall we take a seat?”

The evening was a great success. Jon wasn’t going to deny it. Conversation was once again engaging, the food was delicious and the drinks were ever flowing. Jon was careful not to drink too much and put himself in a compromising position, and his date mirrored that motion, drinking one glass of wine throughout the course of the evening. 

It was as desert was finishing up that Jon decided to be bold. After all up until now the Vagabond had seemed impressed with his tenacity. 

“You know, I don’t feel ready to end this evening yet. I’d appreciate if you would come back to mine.” Jon said lightly. He stared at the brief moment of bewilderment that passed over his date’s face before the act returned and a sly smile was presented to him.

“Well I’d hate to deny any request of yours.” The Vagabond gave him a smile. Clearly international criminals still feel happy at the implication of getting laid. “I’d be happy to accompany you back.”

They stood to leave, a suspiciously large pile of notes being left behind them from the Vagabond’s jacket pocket as they left. Exiting the building The Vagabond held the door for Jon while his car was brought round for them, parking up on the pavement in front. As the valet handed the keys back to the Vagabond, he looked up at him and said something under his breath, something Jon didn’t quite catch but which set his date on edge. 

“Get in the car Jon.” He said sharply, before moving round and swiftly climbing into the driver’s side. Jon followed and as the door closed was thrown back into his seat by acceleration as they sped off, faster than he’d ever travelled in his life.

“I’m sorry about this.” The Vagabond said as they skidded round a corner. “Occupational hazard.”

Jon became aware of what they were running from, a black car reflected in the back mirror far too often as they sped round the streets. “What’s going on?” He asked.

The criminal paused before answering, seeming reluctant. When he spoke it was flat and emotionless. “A rival crew member discovered you were linked to us.”

“Wait so I’m the target!?” Jon tried not to cry out in too undignified a manner as he was thrown round another corner, his knuckles going white from gripping onto the door handle and side of the seat.

“You’re lucky I was with you. The assassin doesn’t seem to realise that I am who I am, at least not yet.” The Vagabond grit his teeth as they hit a ramp and jumped over a low wall. Jon felt his stomach twist and tried his best not to throw up, adrenaline pumping through his system. 

“Do you think they’ll realise?” Jon tried to keep his voice calm as they flew through a stop light and swerved through moving traffic. 

“They probably will when Ray takes them out. I’m taking you to his location so he can snipe the other driver.” The Vagabond’s breath caught. They were racing towards the train tracks and there was clearly a train coming up on the left. He slammed the gas and they sped up, flying over the tracks a split second before otherwise being smashed to pieces. Jon’s heart hammered so hard in his chest he thought it was going to explode out.

They skidded into a car park and to a stop. For a second, all that could be heard was their heavy breathing, before the screech of tires had them both looking up, and a car came crashing in behind them. 

Jon got a split second glance of a driver and a passenger hanging out the window, gun ready to shoot, before two gunshots went off in rapid succession and they both dropped. The car carried on though and before he knew it Jon found himself pushed out of the car and onto the rough concrete, the Vagabond landing on top of him as he also leapt from their car. The low, expensive racer was thrown back by the rival’s car careering into it, and the Vagabond threw himself over Jon, protecting him from any explosion.

The explosion never came though, the cars just crashed mangled into the far wall, and Jon opened his eyes to see the Vagabond’s blue ones staring at him with concern.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I haven’t had that much fun since college.” Jon joked, glossing over the fact that he was rattled. The Vagabond seemed impressed with him and a curious smile spread across his face. He paused before moving away and pulling Jon up to standing. 

“Come on, let’s jump start one of these trucks. I can’t take you back to your flat now.”

Jon frowned. “Am I that much of a target?”

“I don’t know, but I won’t risk it.” The Vagabond sounded fiercely determined and the growl in the back of his throat reminded Jon just how dangerous he could be. It was also, dare he say it, hot. 

Turned out, the Fake AH Crew had a massive penthouse in the middle of town. Huh. 

Jon followed his date up and into the imposing front door, surprised that it just opened with a set of keys. He’d expected some sort of high tech underground lair, but this was actually kind of homely. They walked down a wide corridor and the space opened up into a large living area, dining room and kitchen, with one wall dominated by floor to ceiling windows looking out over the city. At night it looked very pretty. 

Jon looked round while the criminal frowned and checked his phone. The room didn’t look like it belonged to the city’s most notorious crew. In fact it looked like a classic bachelor pad. The furniture was sleek and slightly minimal and there was a gorgeous entertainment set up across from the sofa, with every console under the sun and a huge collection of games underneath. The kitchen was also minimalistic but looked lived in, with a half empty fruit bowl, two donuts left in a bag on the counter and a few mugs ready for washing up. He looked up again when the Vagabond sighed. After pushing a few buttons the man looked up at Jon. 

“The others are out on a job, eta for return one hour.” He looked at Jon, seeming unsure of how to proceed. “So, it’s just you and me until then.”

Jon smirked. He was still pumped up on adrenaline and feeling reckless.

“I can think of a few ways to fill that time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna write Jon meeting the crew, and I also wanna write some dirty smut. So you know, one or the other will come next, hopefully soon. I've had some issues with this story and how casual I should keep the narration, so we'll see how long it takes me to work the kinks out of that.


	4. Chapter 4

They crashed through the hallway and through into a bedroom, all heat and motion. When Jon had initially invited the man to his little suburban house he’d had visions of getting it on in his own room; but never pictured it the other way round. He was rather thrown by the criminal’s nondescript bedroom, the only indication its owner wasn’t your average guy being the pile of wires and weapons strewn on a desk in the corner.

The Vagabond closed the door, threw off his jacket and took a couple of steps forwards to meet Jon before leaning down and kissing him hard.

 

“You up for this now?” he questioned, hand gently tilting Jon’s chin up so their eyes met, “You’ve had quite an evening.”

 

“Your driving is really impressive. It’s a turn on.” Jon smirked back, before surging to kiss him deeply again. It was a little more desperate this time, and as his hands came up to his date’s arms there was a growl in the back of the Vagabond’s throat. The taller man broke off and turned, grabbing the younger man’s hand and guiding him back towards the bed.

 

Jon turned to kiss his date again and let himself indulge in how the danger and the adrenaline was still surging through his system. Their mouths met harshly, and he hastily started to work at the other man’s shirt buttons. The Vagabond took over undoing his own shirt and Jon undid his own top buttons before pulling his shirt and jacket off roughly. He didn’t care when he heard fabric strain and something rip. Screw the expensive tux.

 

The blond pulled away then and smirked at his date before pushing Jon backwards onto the bed. Jon let himself fall and shivered at the predatory look on his partner’s face, remembering how reckless this was and how vulnerable a position he was putting himself in. Now that this was actually happening he danced the line between nervous and impatient.

 

“You wanna do this?” the Vagabond smirked. He was pale but toned, hands starting to undo the belt on his hips torturously slowly.

 

Jon tilted his head to the side a little, capitalising on the moment. “Answer me one question.” He asked, voice deliberately a little husky.

 

“And what is that?”

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The Vagabond froze. Jon thought he might have overstepped a line, but he wasn’t outright denied an answer. “Why ask that now?”

 

“’The Vagabond’ is a great scary criminal name, but I’d rather moan your real name in bed.” Jon kept eye contact and watched the criminal’s face. He looked surprised, flattered and flustered.

 

He finished undoing his belt and let his pants fall, leaving only some expensive boxer-briefs to show. The criminal stepped forwards out of them and slinked forwards, leaning over Jon. He scrutinised his date before leaning in and whispering in his ear, breath warm and heavy.

 

“Ryan.”

 

Jon reacted physically, reaching up to kiss his date hard. Clothes fell away quickly and before long they were totally bare, breathing hard as they drank in the sight of each other.

 

“What do you want now?” the blond asked softly, waiting for Jon’s decision to move.

 

“Anything. Fast.” Jon replied, sliding his hand down to touch his date. Ryan’s eyes fluttered closed for a second as Jon’s hand wrapped firmly round him.

 

“That I can do.” He said breathlessly, before moving his own hand down to touch his date. They started moving slowly, stroking roughly in time as their mouths came together again. It wasn’t long before hips were pumping fast and they were getting close.

 

The Vagabond broke their mouths off first with a groan. Jon sped up a little and watched the concentration flicker on his date’s face, the hand around himself faltering in its movements. He concentrated hard on his partner’s breathing, determined to finish him first.

 

The blond started to fall apart, panting now and pressing messy kisses. All the composure and the fearful persona had fallen away. It occurred to Jon that his partner might not have had much action recently, given how easily he’d fallen apart at another’s touch. He felt a surge of confidence then, for once not feeling like the other man had the upper hand.

 

“Come on Ryan.” He moaned, and as he heard his name for his partner it was all over. The blond groaned into Jon’s mouth as he came, before burying his head into his partner’s neck, panting hard. Jon felt a surge of confidence. This guy was the _Vagabond_.

 

There was a moment of stillness before Ryan moved, placing kind little kisses down the side of Jon’s neck. He started to move his mouth down Jon’s chest and Jon let himself fall back on the bed, guessing where this was going. He sighed and let his eyes flutter closed as the Vagabond’s hand and then mouth wrapped around him. They both knew Jon wasn’t far off and didn’t bother with teasing. Ryan’s hand and mouth both moved quickly, bringing Jon right up to the edge.

 

“I’m gonna-“ Jon panted, and the blond sped up and hollowed his cheeks. Jon tried to stop his hips bucking up too hard as he moaned out, feeling the blond swallowing down.

 

“Ryan!” he shouted as he came. After he finished he looked down to see his partner pulling off, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. He looked amazingly dishevelled.

 

Jon tried to think of something witty or impressive to say but his brain failed him. Instead he lay back as Ryan climbed over him to kiss him hard.

 

“I’m very glad I gave you my name.” he said as he pulled away. They both broke out into a smile, but before either could react there was a startling bang on the door.

 

“When you’re quite finished!” Came a strangled and irritated voice from the other side of the door. Even Jon recognised the voice of Geoff Ramsey.

 

“Alright!” Ryan shouted, before sliding off the bed and walking into the en-suite bathroom. He emerged with a flannel, cleaning himself up before passing it to Jon. As Jon finished tidying up he took two expensive dressing gowns out of the wardrobe and threw one at Jon.

 

“You ready for this?” He asked as Jon threw the dressing gown on and stood to face to door.

 

“I’m not new to this game you know.” Jon replied, “I’m not just a terrified civilian. Let’s meet the crew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it. I dun wrote the sex.   
> Please leave kudos and comments! I'd love more feedback <3 x

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to ryanthepowerbottomguy on tumblr for the inspiration.


End file.
